


How Not To Learn Self Control

by activevirtues



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-14
Updated: 2008-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/activevirtues/pseuds/activevirtues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nando can't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Not To Learn Self Control

The embarrassingly large crush Fernando Torres has on Steven Gerrard should, as far as Nando is concerned, be obvious to pretty much anyone with functioning eyes. It’s not like he’s hiding it – he stopped trying to hide it about three days after his first practice as a Red, before he could understand anything but the gigantic smile Steven would give him every time he did something cool with a football. At first Nando thought it was hero-worship – he’d been a captain, too, at Atlético, and from that alone he could appreciate the way the team seemed to almost take for granted Steven being the core, the pulsing heart of the whole enterprise.

Steven loves Liverpool – the city, the people, Anfield, the history of the team and the thrill of being a part of it all – with a deep, obvious, thoroughly unshakable passion the way a son loves a father. And he loves the team itself, all the men on it, who seem, if not as devoted as Steven to the idea of Liverpool, then varying degrees of pretty damn close. Which meant that from the moment Nando stepped onto the pitch wearing number nine, Steven loved him. From the moment Steven explained, through a Xabi Alonso willing to humour pretty much any whim Steven might have, exactly what it meant to never walk alone, Nando loved every brick and blade of grass and scrap of red banner if only because it had earned the devotion of someone like Steven.

And then they started their first scrimmage, and when Nando sent a gently arcing ball past Reina’s fingertips off a pass from his new captain, Steven smiled like Nando just did something miraculous. “Good, yes, Steven?” Nando remembers asking with a full third of the words he’d learned since landing in England.

“Yes,” Steven said, and Nando remembers his grin getting that much bigger.

Nando’s face grows hot just thinking about it. Stevie’s smile – the broad, gleeful grin like the best kind of praise has come out for Nando many times since then, and it has made something inside him stutter every time the full force of it has been turned on him.

So Nando can’t help himself. He knows, deep down, that it’s probably going nowhere good. But he’s not sure he cares. He cares about Steven, the way he cares about all the others on his team, the way he cares about his mom and dad, the way he cares about his siblings – the way he cares about Olalla. He’s given himself, his whole heart, to this strange, grey city on the edge of the Irish Sea, to the team and its fans. A part of that is for Steven, who cares about him beyond his weird and wonderful ability to kick a ball into a net.

Nando can’t help loving Steven, but he can help the other things – his own slow smiles, the way he comes up with excuses to touch Steven, the stolen glances out of the edge of his vision in the showers when, on occasion, they are the last two left.

It’s on one such an occasion, Steven in the far shower, Nando closest to the door, that he goes from being able to help it to – to _not_.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen Steven naked before, but for God only knows what reason, today with every furtive half-look, Nando can feel his cock twitching with interest and then – oh, God – growing slowly hard. Quickly Nando shuts the shower off, hides his half-stiff cock with his towel, and mumbles a goodbye to Steven as he makes a quick exit.

Xabi is still in the locker room, towel wrapped around his waist, digging in his locker for something. He doesn’t look up as Nando pulls his shorts on, not even bothering with underwear, and practically sprints to the bathroom.

Nando spends about five minutes trying to talk his dick into behaving, and finally manages it by picturing Coach Aragones frolicking on the beach in a speedo hand in hand with Queen Sofia - truly unpleasant, but it does the trick. He breathes a silent apology to Aragones and the Queen, and steps out of the toilets to finish dressing with a little less haste. He glances over to where Xabi was and sees he’s gone – except Xabi’s locker is still open, he sees again.

It’s about then that he hears it – a low rumble of a laugh, too faint to hear if he hadn’t been still completely on edge, coming from the showers. He pads silently over to the doorway – easy to do when he still hasn’t put his shoes on – and pops his head in, ready to say something, then immediately pulls back, leaning against the painted concrete wall like it’s the only thing in the world that will keep him upright. At the moment, it probably is, because he’s just seen a very wet, very hard Steven Gerrard wrapped around a similarly wet and naked Xabi Alonso, Steven licking the water off Xabi’s neck in a way that was about five miles past the _we’re just really, really friendly_ line. Steven’s hands were clutching at Xabi’s back and perfect, almost femininely pert ass, and Nando could hear Xabi laugh again, just loud enough to echo slightly in the steam-filled air, as Steven muttered something in Xabi’s ear before biting not-so-gently at his lobe. Both of them were completely oblivious to him, and as he stands hiding just on the other side of the doorway, Nando realizes that all of his work in the past ten minutes has been completely for nothing, because his cock is harder now, with that image fresh in his mind, than it had been when he rushed out of the shower like all the hounds of hell were chasing him.

He can’t help it. He really can’t – his cock is so hard it’s almost painful, tenting his shorts like he’s 14 with his first stiffy. So he reaches down to adjust himself before he remembers he’s not wearing any underwear, and by then he’s already taking himself in hand out of desperation. The first rough stroke of his own fist is as good as any blowjob he’s ever had, his thumb spreading a bead of precome across the cockhead more sensitive to touch than it’s ever been in his life, and he nearly comes as, at that moment, he hears a low groan from the other side of the wall. Before he can stop himself he’s peeking around the doorway again, wanting more than just the sounds of them together under the spray of the shower.

Steven is up against the slick white-tiled wall of the shower, head thrown back and grinning like he’s just scored a goal against Chelsea, and Xabi has moved to the side just enough for Nando to see that he’s taken Steven’s cock in his hand and is stroking, faster and faster, as Steven squirms and shudders. “He wants you, you know,” Xabi says, and Nando doesn’t get it at first, has to flip through his mental dictionary, which – thank God – takes some of the blood away from his cock and back in his brain where it belongs.

“He watches you like I did,” Xabi continues, lips at Steven’s neck, and he pauses to lick where the pulse thrums just next to his adam’s apple. “I think you want him like you did me, no?” he asks, and Steven bucks up into his hand. Nando tries to match the rhythm, tries to understand what Xabi is saying, and it’s all just so much to take in that he has to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning.

“He could suck your cock, Stevie,” Xabi says, and the laughter has left his voice and been replaced by something darker and warmer and altogether rough. Nando understands suck and cock – it’s always the profanity that gets taught first when you spend 85% of your time in a locker room – and when he closes his eyes against a fresh swell of need, Nando sees himself down on his knees, Xabi standing next to him and guiding Steven’s cock into his mouth, telling him in low, dirty Spanish that he has to take it all.

“He has got such a pretty mouth, no?” Xabi is saying, and the sound of his hand sliding faster on Steven’s cock is almost too much for Nando to bear. He bites his lip against another moan and concentrates as much as he can on understanding. “Would be so pink around your cock, like a girl’s. You want it, don’t you, Stevie?”

“God,” Stevie moans, finally, like he can’t help himself, and his voice is hoarse, still tinged with a little bit of laughter. “So fucking pretty,” he agrees, and Nando forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch as Steven bucks up into Xabi’s fist, abs flexing like he’s about to be punched. “His freckles, God,” Steven says, and that’s a word Nando hasn’t learned yet. It makes his hand lose rhythm on his cock, trying to figure it out, but Xabi is biting Steven’s shoulder and jacking him faster.

“You could come all over them,” Xabi says, and it must have something to do with that word Nando doesn’t know – but whatever it is, it’s making Steven moan and jerk, so close to coming that it’s bringing Nando to the edge just watching. “He would let you. Beg you.” Xabi’s hand slows briefly, and Nando hears him moan himself as he rubs his cock into Stevie’s hip. “I could lick it off after. People see him, think he is a golden boy, but we will know,” Xabi says, and Nando hears the Basque coming through in his accent as he gets distracted by, Nando can only presume, the gorgeous expanse of Steven Gerrard writhing under his hands.

“Fuck,” Steven says, and again, moaning it this time, “_Fuck_.” Xabi’s quiet, biting harder at Steven’s shoulder, and Steven has taken over with the narration, though Nando can barely understand it. “He’d blush like a virgin, Xabi. He’d blush while he sucks my cock, blush while you fuck him,” and Xabi’s thrusts against Steven’s hip suddenly get frantic. One of Steven’s hands moves from its white-knuckled grip around the showerhead to Xabi’s ass, and Nando can’t take his eyes off where Steven’s fingers are digging into that perfect pale skin. But he wants to look at Steven’s cock, too, flushed red and slipping obscenely through Xabi’s fist, and at Steven’s mouth as it shapes more words he’s almost understanding.

And then, something he understands. “God, _Nando_,” Steven says, and comes.

It shocks him so hard he nearly falls over, and he’s coming too, all over his hand and shorts and the wall that’s been keeping him upright, and in the shock and the white-spark pleasure he can’t stop the moan from bursting out as his eyes slam shut and he jerks himself through what feels like a million aftershocks.

When he manages to open them again, Stevie and Xabi are standing in front of him – Xabi’s cock still red and stiff, like he’d been pulled away from orgasm – studying him like he’s some alien just landed in the shower room from Mars. “Spying on us, eh?” Steven says, and Nando must look like he has no idea what that means – which is, of course, true – because he nods at Xabi, who says, “He asked if you were spying on us. I thought you might be.”

“Listen,” he begins in Spanish, and then tries in English first: “I no want to…” Steven is grinning at him now, and it flusters him more, so he switches back to Spanish. “Listen, man, I didn’t mean to… see anything. I just heard you guys in here and…” He breaks off when Steven starts stroking his own cock, still with that grin on his face that Nando’s used to seeing after he’s done something improbably cool on the pitch.

“Go on,” Steven says. “That’s fucking hot.” Nando blinks at him, not really getting it, an Steven’s grin gets wider.

“You heard us in here and _what_,” Xabi asks him, voice a little sarcastic, “you thought we were your own private pornography? Do you always jack off to pictures of us?”

Steven’s hand is moving faster, coaxing his cock into half-hardness, and Nando’s eyes dart to watch before he can stop himself. Xabi sees it and says, voice teasing, “No, I think it’s just Stevie you jerk off to.”

“Xabi, I didn’t mean…” Nando tries again. “I didn’t know you were…”

“Fucking each other?” Xabi finishes. “Sometimes. Sometimes we don’t. Sometimes he wants a mouth like yours around his cock.” He switches to English briefly. “He wants you to suck his cock, don’t you, Stevie?”

Steven’s hand is moving leisurely up the length of his dick, flicking at the foreskin until the head pokes out, cherry-red, then down again, to tug gently at his balls. “Yeah,” Steven says, and his other hand is tugging Nando off balance, again into the showers. “Yeah,” he repeats, a little more hoarsely, “I want you to suck my cock, Nando.”

One more tug and Nando is tripping forward, shorts sliding down to his knees as he finds himself pressed fully against Steven’s body. Then Steven is kissing him, wet and warm and tasting slightly of soap from the shower and orange Lucozade from the practice earlier, and Nando curls his tongue against Steven’s and lets himself fall into it. One of Steven’s hands is tangled in his hair, the other is snaking down Nando’s body, plucking at a nipple, and he makes helpless noises into Steven’s mouth as he feels lips at his shoulder, hands pushing his shorts down even farther until they fall to his ankles. Somehow he has the presence of mind to step out of them, and then Steven is pulling him closer, their cocks sliding alongside each other with torturous friction. Steven tugs at his hair, pulling his head back so Steven can lick down, sucking hard at his neck like he wants to leave a mark Nando is going to have to explain.

“Have you ever sucked a dick before, Nando?” Xabi’s voice asks from behind him as his hands shape the curve of Nando’s ass. He bites gently at Nando’s shoulderblade, and Nando feels Steven’s mouth curve into a smile against his neck when Nando shudders in response. “Have you ever taken a cock as big as Stevie’s into that pretty red mouth? Let someone fill your mouth so full you can’t do anything but open wide and take it? Ever had someone come in your mouth?”

Nando is shaking now, ready to fly apart. Steven’s hand has made its way to Nando’s cock, jerking him quickly, and Xabi’s has joined it, and he’s fucking both their fists like the world is about to end. Steven’s talking too, now, but all he says is, “Fuck, _fuck_, so fucking _hot_, Nando,” over and over, like a priest reciting some illicit paternoster, and Nando is_ so motherfucking close_.

And then he’s coming again, bucking forward against Steven and back against Xabi and striping Steven’s chest with come, and he hasn’t even slumped against Steven’s chest when he hears Xabi say “_Puta madre_” against the back of Nando’s neck and feels Xabi come against his back and ass. It makes him moan into Steven’s shoulder, makes Steven’s hand tighten in his hair, and then Xabi is reaching around Nando and stroking Steven until he’s shuddering through another orgasm.

Xabi steps back, and Nando turns to look at him, still leaning against Steven and grateful for the support – he’s doubtful his legs will work on their own. “Hmm,” Xabi says in a thoughtful tone Nando never imagined in a million years he’d hear in this context. “We should clean up,” he says in English.

Steven nods, sliding his hand down Nando’s chest through the remnants. “Probably for the best.”

“And we… what?” Nando asks, searching for his English and finding his head still clouded.

“Oh,” Steven says, and smiles. “Oh, you will see.”

Nando can’t wait.


End file.
